The Damned
by Ravenic Tauro
Summary: The Dead can see everything, and yet none can see the dead. If there is but one person who can, then are they lucky or are they perhaps damned for all eternity? It doesn't matter to many, but perhaps it will to just this one.


**The Damned**

**A/n: This is a one shot that I have had lying around for ages and finally got around to writing. Thanks as always to my lovely beta.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I make any claims that say I do so.**

The tiny bell above the entry way jingled as the large man opened the door to the small room. He was a built man, around 5'11'' and broad shouldered, but not someone you would call fat. Rather he was covered in muscles that practically oozed strength, yet he held himself gracefully. From the very way he walked and held himself, the sole occupant of the room could tell immediately what he was.

A skeptic.

Another skeptic coming to try to disclaim his abilities and like all the others, this one would be walk out of here disappointed in their quest. But he would be different than the rest. The man was followed by a second man holding a video camera.

The occupant of the room remained seated at a table with his eyes closed and tilted down toward the floor, while the man looked around the small room. It was vastly different than most of the psychics' environments that he had come across.

The room was small and had walls covered in blood red curtains with mysterious white sigils, that the man did not recognize or had ever seen before.

"They're Enochian." The seated man spoke for the first time without looking up.

"What?" the first man said, having been startled out of his musings.

The seated man simply smiled mysteriously before allowing the other man to continue his observance.

The rest of the room was colored completely black with almost obsidian looking walls. The most obvious variation was the thin circle of something he would guess to be salt, circling the table that the man sat at. Its purpose was lost to him though.

Bringing an end to his observations, the large man walked towards the table and stopped while signaling to the camera operator to being his filming.

"You know it's rude to not ask for permission to start filming first," the deep voice carried from the seated man.

The skeptic had the grace to look shamed while he seated himself in the chair opposite the psychic while the cameraman stood to the left to film the encounter and clearing his throat he began.

"Are you Romulus the Damned?"

Continuing to keep his eyes closed the man answered vaguely.

"They say so."

The skeptic looked briefly annoyed at this answer.

"Are you or are you not?"

The psychic grinned and looked up at the skeptic for the first time, opening his eyes.

"If I wasn't, you wouldn't be here."

Both the skeptic and cameraman visibly recoiled at the sight of the psychic's eyes: pure white. Entirely without pupils or irises, the eyes seemed to read their souls and while instilling total fear in them.

"Good Lord…" the skeptic breathed out.

They'd heard rumors about the psychic known as Romulus the Damned, whose blind eyes that gave him his name. But hearing stories was one thing, seeing them in person was an entirely different.

The psychic merely grinned, an act that did absolutely nothing to ease their thoughts.

"How is that possible?"

"Anything is possible," was the simple response.

The words _with magic_ were left unsaid yet spoke volumes to the skeptic.

The skeptic gulped visibly as his eyes remained locked onto the unseeing eyes of the psychic. Several moments passed uncomfortably for the man before a noise from this cameraman brought him out of his revere. It would not look good for his audience if he failed for the first time in his career.

Straightening himself and regaining his composure, he forced himself to look past the eyes.

"Then you must know why I am here."

"Indeed I do," was the simple response from the psychic known as Romulus.

The skeptic nodded.

"You desire to figure out if what you've heard about me is true. Just as is your desire that is deep in your heart and the true reason that you are here."

The skeptic took a sharp breath before replying evasively.

"And you know what will happen if you can do that then."

"Then you'll vouch for me and my abilities." The man cut him off. "I know. Not that it matters."

The larger man looked surprised for a moment before nodding.

"Yes."

The psychic merely continued staring at the man with his sightless eyes in a way that did nothing to lessen the other two men's discomfort. Long bony and emancipated hands rested on the hardwood table in an unhurried manner as he sat there.

Several moments passed before the skeptic broke the uncomfortable silence.

"Well?"

Romulus finally turned his head away from the man and looked at a position on the far side of the room to his right, not missing the breath of relief the two men let out as he did so. His sightless eyes looked upon the three figures that stood just outside of the salt line that circled them and he nodded slowly.

"They are here." Was all that he said.

The skeptic mouthed the word they for a moment before sighing with a disappointed look towards the psychic across from him. He had hoped that maybe this final man would be the one but it appeared that he was wrong. He was probably just some quack who thought that it was his parents who wanted to talk to him from beyond the grave. With a disappointed sigh, he waved to his cameraman to stop filming and stood to leave when the psychic suddenly spoke again.

"But it is the girl who wants to speak with you the most."

That one sentence stilled the man immediately, the word girl resounding accusingly in his brain. Shakily he retook his seat.

Maybe he had been too hasty.

"A…" he coughed slightly, "a girl?" he managed.

Romulus turned his gaze back to him disinterestedly for a moment.

"Yes." His monotone voice caught the skeptic off guard.

He turned his gaze back across the room to the small figure, ignoring the other two, taller figures behind her and could almost feel the eyes of the shaken skeptic follow them to the empty room.

"_You can see me can't you?" _A small voice asked him.

Romulus didn't vocalize an answer and instead inclined his head.

_Yes._

The girl was momentarily shocked before she seemed to pull herself together. As she did so he took stock of the little girl. She was young, maybe around 7 or 8 with long strawberry blond hair that fell past her shoulders in small curls. Pale blue eyes looked into his white ones with not only surprise, but also sorrow, anger, and also desire.

"…_how?"_

Once again he didn't answer and instead gave her a look that said she should know.

_You should know._

After all, he knew from past experiences that they could see the three Keys of Death on him. It was what attracted them to him in the first place and why he lived behind so many lines of protection. The hollow place they scarred him with drew them like flies, insuring that he would never be able to live in peace for as long as he was held to this Earth.

The girl watched him closely for several moments before turning to look the man across from her who was trying to compose himself. Her yellow sundress swayed in a nonexistent breeze as she moved closer to him and stopping just at the edge of the white salt line, fully aware of the white eyes that tracked her moments.

"_He killed me."_ The words came out in a small whisper that jerked Romulus ever so slightly. Not many things surprised him with what he learned in this business anymore.

Romulus turned toward the corporeal man in front of him and looked at him with accusing eyes that forced him to jerk back in surprise, breaking the salt ever so slightly.

"You killed her." The monotone voice turned accusing and cold.

The man gasped sharply at the accusation and turned towards his cameraman briefly as though to tell him to stop before he caught himself and steeled his resolve.

"I…I…yes." The admittance was barely heard and yet his practiced hearing caught it. "I never meant to! It was just an accident that turned bad…" he burst out before trailing off.

Romulus turned his gaze back to the girl in question.

"_He is right. He…he never meant to. But he still did! He caused my death!" _ The girl screamed out the last, causing the red curtains to billow out, something that drew the attention of both of the guests.

_What happened?_ The unspoken question reached the girls ears and she turned towards the psychic slowly.

"_It was so long ago. We…we were both still young and he and his gang had been teasing me for months. And I didn't know why!"_ The girl stamped her bare feet angrily. _"They were so mean! I never did anything to them! Why?"_

_You never did anything. _

The girl's head snapped up to look up at him, her transparent curls bouncing slightly.

_No one ever does anything._

The girl walked towards him around the salt line and drew close to him.

"_You know?" _ she asked quietly. _"You…"_ she trailed off and looked over him as if for the first time, seeing everything, and knowing everything there was.

Romulus felt so exposed. Just as he always did. The dead always seemed to be able to read him for what he was. What he had been. It unnerved him to this day and caused him to shiver uncontrollably.

"_You know." _She repeated. _"They were mean to you too?"_ she asked in her small childish voice.

In the background he saw the two other figures jerk slightly and he sighed.

_Yes._

The girl looked at him with sad eyes.

"_Did you…forgive them?"_

Romulus turned his eyes back to the man who was trying to hold himself together, the answer coming from him silently.

_No._

The girl continued to look at him for a while as if trying to figure something out before she nodded slowly and moved back to the other man.

Said man looked up at him as though feeling his unseeing gaze on him.

"It was just an accident! We were having a bit of fun, just doing what we had always done when…"

"_When he came to me one evening. Saying he had something to show me. Something really neat. And…and I had always sortofkindalikedhimsoIfollowedhim." _She rushed out.

"You took her to the pond." The monotone was still just as accusing as it had been previously.

The skeptic looked up from his hands and looked up at him.

"I was just trying to have a little fun and when we got there I…" he trailed off, unable to continue.

"_I wanted so much to believe that he was going to finally be nice to me! And maybe this was it!"_

Romulus turned back to look at the small girl, seeing the signs of her distress and watching as her yellow dress turned to look damp and clung to her small form.

"_And when we got there I turned to him all happy. It was so cute! A small little pond with trees all around it!" _she gushed.

He turned back to the skeptic.

"And she turned to me. I can still see the smile on her face. I can see it being torn away as I pushed her. The terror that erupted on her face as she fell."

"_I fell so far and all I could see was the mocking laughter on his fat face. I fell and…"_

"She hit her head on the rocks and fell face first into the water. I…I watched her, calling her to get up and she didn't…" sobs wracked the normally unshakeable man. "She didn't get up! I didn't know what to do!" he stopped as he was unable to continue due to his cries.

Romulus watched as the girl stepped over the break in the line with wide eyes. She moved slowly, her now soaked dress dripping phantom water over the floor. Her once bright and shiny hair clung to her face with sickening stubbornness, darkened with mud and water. The girl raised her hand and traced her wrinkled fingers down the skeptic's cheek, causing a shiver to run through him.

"I..I tried…I tried to help her but…"

"_But it was too late." _She turned back to Romulus. _"I died." _She stated in a matter of fact voice that would've been cute in any other circumstance.

She looked at the sobbing man and then at the scared cameraman before turning back to him. The girl looked at him with sorrowful eyes for several slow and uncomfortable minutes and Romulus had a feeling that she was judging him. Finally, she broke the silence.

"_Tell him that I forgive him."_

Romulus' blank eyes snapped up to meet her ghostly, pale blue eyes and she smiled sadly and smoothed her now dry dress.

"_This has haunted him since it happened. He…he needs to be free of this."_

_This is why he started all this isn't it? _ The unspoken question asked.

"_Yes. I have seen it all. He deserves forgiveness." _She looked at him with knowing eyes that spoke more than could be thought possible.

Romulus continued to look at her before shuddering and breaking contact, turning towards the still sobbing man.

"She…" he cleared his throat as the skeptic suddenly jerked up at him. "She says that she forgives you." He said in as clear a voice as he could.

Romulus closed his haunted and cursed eyes to relieve the man of their effect.

"W…w…w…why?" was his stuttered and cried answer.

He didn't answer and tilted his head down silently.

"_You know why." _The girl said softly.

"_It is not the past_ that defines us. It is the _present that makes us who we are." _ They both spoke in solemn answer.

The skeptic stared at the once again monotone psychic in front of him. He turned and waved away his cameraman, who turned off his camera and stepped outside of the room.

"Harry?" the skeptic asked softly.

"Hello Dudley." Romulus said in reply.

"I…she's really here isn't she?"

Harry nodded silently.

Dudley took a deep breath and chocked back a sob. "I'm…I'm sorry Maria. I…I will never forgive myself for what I have done."

There was a soft breeze and her small voice, tainted by decades of death and sorrow, rang out through Harry's own.

"_I know Dudley._ And I forgive you for everything. Move on with _your life."_ Harry's voice came unbidden in synch with her own as he relayed her response.

Another small cry went through him and he nodded, taking deep breaths.

"Thank you…"

Romulus opened his cursed eyes to watch as the small girl smiled and slowly faded away, moving on.

Cursed white eyes looked upon the sad blue eyes across from him and Harry remembered what the girl had said.

"Dudley…." Harry stopped himself and looked up the forms of his ghostly parents next to him, where they had been for so long when had involuntarily taken up this mantel so long ago.

Dudley looked at him with unknowing eyes.

"Dudley…We…I…I forgive you." And he closed himself off once again.

Harry heard him shift to stand next to him and pull him up. White eyes snapped open in shock as his cousin hugged him.

"Thank you Harry."

**A/n: This story is a play on the consequences of what happens when Harry becomes the Master of Death. You can draw assumptions from there.  
If anyone has watched Supernatural then you'll know that ghosts and demons can't cross salt. In case you were confused about that.**

**-R.T.**


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